


Bewitched By You

by communikate



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Witchcraft, Witches, but more like medium burn, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-27 15:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14428923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/communikate/pseuds/communikate
Summary: The Blue Paladin is a well-known witch that travels between dimensions to help those in need, a good witch that always catches the villains and brings them to justice. But one witch keeps slipping through his fingers, running rampant through the Coalition dimension and burning everything to ash as a means to cover their tracks.And for more than just a defense of his pride, Lance is determined to find this witch and set them straight.





	1. Sealed with Wax

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This piece was written for the [Klance Reverse Bang](https://klancereversebang.tumblr.com)! I'm so so so grateful to have Papi as my wonderful artist and Cheesecake as my wonderful beta!! This project would not have been possible without them!!
> 
> Please check out the beautiful art work for this fic: [HERE!!!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bh-u9elnESh/) It is seriously sooooo gorgeous!! (´♡‿♡`)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!

There was only a mere flutter of the air before a letter, pressed in an embossed, eggshell-white envelope and sealed with blue wax, floated in the air before his eyes. It bobbed in the slight draft in their apartment. Lance was determined to ignore it, to flip to the next page in his book, desperate to avoid work for the pleasure of his favorite book series.

“You’re not going to answer that?” Hunk asked from the kitchen, skepticism in his voice as the timer for the pasta went off.

Lance groaned, closing his book after slipping in an elegant bookmark his sister had braided for him for Christmas years ago. The worn edge trailed over the spine as he set it down on the coffee table and straightened himself on the couch.

Sighing, he plucked the letter from the air, feeling the magic roll over his fingers like a thin coating of steam.

He recognized the insignia, heat still radiating from the wax, freshly pressed and impressionable to the touch: Olkari. With the flick of his fingers, he popped the seal and slid the letter out of the stiff envelope.

Leaning back on the couch, he read over the details of the job. Once. Twice. And a final third time, because it was always best for him to go in prepared.

He stood, folding the letter and shoving it into his back pocket. “Hunk, what time’s dinner going to be ready?” Lance asked while pulling on his cloak that had been thrown over the back of the couch. The bell sleeves were large, billowing around his hands and lined with magic-aiding insignias. The hem that skimmed the middle of his shin was lined with vibrant blue fabric, stark against the navy of the cloak.

“Thirty minutes?” Hunk guessed, straining the pasta in the sink, steam rising and dusting his face.

“I doubt I’ll be back before then,” Lance sighed, “so just leave me a bowl in the microwave?” Clipping the collar of the robe with an elegant silver clasp at the neck, he dusted off the sleeves of his cloak.

With the flick of his wrist and the murmur of a spell he knew so well, he drew his wand from thin air, pulling it into existence. It was a fragile thing, spindled and carved of Lignum Vitae, handle like waves crashing upon the shore. There was a breath like frost when Lance exhaled as his fingers caressed the gentle wood.

Nodding to Hunk, Lance muttered another spell, swirling a portal in the middle of their living room. The portal was lined with glowing blue script, casting the heavens in the center while pulsing with flashes of magic. His wand heated in his hand as he finished the last of the spell, snapping his broomstick into his hand from its rack by the front door and mounting it. He floated carefully, posture relaxed as he slowly traveled through the portal.

  


* * *

  


He stumbled back into their living room, portal sloppy and closing the second his cloak fluttered through. His broom lazily bobbed to its home by the door as Lance threw his cloak on the back of the couch and dismissed his wand with a flick of his wrist.

Without even looking inside, Lance pressed the express heat button on the microwave, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Hunk yawned, walking out of his room and wearing a rumbled sleepshirt. “You’re back late.”

Lance merely groaned in response. Ripping open the microwave, he tiredly dug a fork into the pasta, spooning it into his mouth with heavily lidded eyes.

“That bad, huh?”

“It shouldn’t have been,” Lance grumbled around a mouth full of pasta. “The Olkari were wonderful as always, but Slav sent me a letter, saying that he only had _fifty five_ letters left, and that wasn’t enough for all the potential possibilities or the other possible realities.” The witch just rolled his eyes, sinking down against the kitchen cabinets until he was sprawled out on the floor. “So I had to portal three times today and craft eighty new envelopes. I’m exhausted.”

Hunk chuckled a small laugh, running a hand through his hair as he pulled out a chair in the kitchen, crossing his legs and sitting next to Lance. “I’d fix you a rejuvenation potion, but you obviously need to sleep.”

Lance nodded, lazily chewing the dinner Hunk had made hours earlier.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Hunk settling back in the chair, arms crossed and eyelids heavy.

“So how’s the shop?” Lance asked, making easy conversation with his best friend.

“Good,” Hunk breathed, a dust of blush covering his cheeks. “Shay’s been an amazing help since she starting interning.” He played with the hem of his shirt, dragging it between two long fingers.

Lance hummed, smirking lightly, which Hunk most definitely caught. He opened his mouth to speak but the small sound of warping space caught his ear. Turning his head, he watched another envelope spiral into his reality. With a tired grunt, Lance snatched it from the air, ignoring the zing of magic against his skin.

“Another one?” Hunk asked, leaning forward and attempting to read the letter while Lance opened the wax seal.

“The universe just can’t rest without me,” Lance joked, reading over the letter. It wasn’t urgent, more of an announcement that an out of control witch almost razed a city in the Naxzela continent of the Coalition Realm. Just thinking about traveling there only to chase the fading trail of a witch made his tired fingers ache and his eyelids sag.

Hunk leaned forward, plucking the thick letter from Lance’s hands. “Looks like it can wait until tomorrow.”

Lance nodded, kicking his shoes off the second he dragged his feet into his bedroom. Without even bothering to change into pajamas or to do his nightly skin care routine, he slumped into bed and fell to sleep to thoughts of a rogue witch.

He woke to the scent of bacon wafting from the kitchen.

Reaching for his phone that dug into his hip from his haphazard sleeping position, he checked the time: 7:30 in the morning, which meant Hunk was taking a late morning in order to make him breakfast. That, or Lance had kept him up extremely late last night. Normally Hunk was at the shop at 6:30am, brewing new potions and checking on his plants and preparing for opening.

Lance stumbled out of bed, blearly rubbing at his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. Hunk stood by the stove in his yellow apron, smile wide and humming.

“Morning,” Lance yawned, plopping down on a kitchen chair and fumbling for the mug of coffee Hunk pushed into his fingers.

“Uh, Lance,” Hunk began, pointing behind the witch. “You’ve got mail.”

Two more envelopes, embossed and glossy in eggshell white floated beside his head, slowly pulsing with magic.

“Not urgent. Can wait until after my coffee,” Lance grumbled, enjoying the way magic sparked life within his body again - especially after being so drained last night, the emptiness had settled in his veins like cement. The coffee was a pleasant warmth in his system, elbows propped on the table and warm steam caressing the planes of his face.

Hunk placed a plate in front of him, brimming with an omelet, bacon, and breakfast potatoes. Groaning in approval, Lance shoveled a bite of omelet into his mouth. Hunk chuckled, taking the seat opposite of him with his own plate of breakfast.

“Shay working the shop this morning?” Lance asked around a moaning mouthful of breakfast potatoes crisped to perfection.

Nodding, Hunk cleared his throat. “Yeah, she said she didn’t mind going in early this morning. I told her that she could leave early this afternoon, but she said she wanted to stay.” He merely shrugged as a fine dusting of blush crept up his cheeks.

“Yeah, probably because she’s such a hard worker,” Lance smirked, watching the flush settle deeper in Hunk’s cheeks. “That’s _definitely_ it.”

Hunk pursed his lips, and Lance chuckled in response.

In the comfortable silence that followed, Lance grabbed one of the envelopes from the air, popping open the seal with one hand and scanning the letter. With a quick gasp of surprise, Lance was coughing violently, reaching for his coffee to clear his throat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He scanned the letter again, and thoughts of last night reignited like gunpowder, sharp and explosive. Jumping to his feet, he waved the letter in Hunk’s face. “If this is some joke, it’s not funny.”

Hunk plucked the letter from Lance’s grip as he settled back in his chair with a huff. After reading the letter, he pushed it back across the table to Lance.

“Another rogue witch in the Coalition Realm?” Lance groaned in disbelief.

“Think it’s the same witch from last month?” Hunk mused, cutting into his omelet with a serious expression.

Lance choked, coughing and grabbing the salt shaker. “Hunk, don’t put that kind of energy in the air!” Filling his palm with a little salt, he tossed it around his chair in a circle as if to ward off evil. He kept a serious expression until he caught sight of Hunk’s playful smile. Lance couldn’t fight a smile at his ridiculous actions, placing the salt shaker back on the table and brushing the excess salt that coated his palm onto his potatoes.

“But in all seriousness,” Lance sighed, shoulders slumping slightly at the mention of the witch that he’d received more letters than he could count, “I don’t know if I want to chase them down again.”

“Don’t you mean, _try_ to chase them down,” Hunk teased with a lilting grin.

Lance groaned. “They ran across the Coalition for weeks, and I was always too late to trace anything.” Biting his lip, he ignored the rising sense of self doubt chewing on his ribs and making it hard to breathe. They had so expertly evaded him that Lance had been confounded for weeks, agonizing over their movements and waking at the slightest disturbance in his magic.

Huffing a small sigh, Hunk drew his attention, eyebrows set low and a gentle smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it, buddy. I doubt they’d appear two months later just to do the same thing.”

Not that Lance had known their original purpose for razing settlements, scouring homes, and leaving a trail of ashes and char.

Lance nodded in return, finishing his breakfast with half of his attention cast to the floating letters beside him, disrupting the natural flow of magic in the air. Snatching one out of the air in a huff, Lace ripped open the thick paper, pieces of wax tumbling to the table.

> _Dear Blue Paladin,_
> 
> _I regret to inform you that they once again made an appearance last night. The rogue witch broke into the Blade of Marmora’s base and succeeded in accessing certain low-risk information. Unfortunately, by the time I am writing to you, their traces have disappeared._
> 
> _This is not a call to arms for you, but merely a notice that they are once again on the move._
> 
> _Best,_
> 
> _Thace_

Groaning, Lance handed the letter to Hunk, head plopping down on the table. The letter fluttered to the ground while Lance plucked the other from air, scanning the passage.

> _Lance,_
> 
> _That damn witch stole another hover car from our supply. Counting on you to pay them our regards._
> 
> _xoxo,_
> 
> _Nyma & Rolo_

“I was hoping last night’s letter was a fluke, and that they hadn’t reappeared.” Hunk delicately took the letters from Lance’s grip and from the floor, reading over the messages with a frown deepening unnaturally into his features.

“This wasn’t exactly the same M.O. as before,” Hunk observed, one finger pressed to his chin and brow furrowed.

Lance groaned again, rubbing hands through his greasy hair, tendrils slick and tangling together. “If it’s not them, then I’m not an interdimensional witch.” With the flick of his wrist, he twirled the letters in Hunk’s hands, allowing the magic to fold in on themselves and settle back into their envelopes and dart into his grasp. “This has them written all over it. It just - it seems like they’re searching for something, you know? Maybe they’re more focused than they were before,” he bit on his bottom lip, narrowing his gaze and trailing a fingernail along the stain of wax on the back of the envelope, “like they’re following a lead.”

Hunk stood up, grabbing the dirty breakfast plates and placing them in the sink. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small vial, corked with carbonated purple liquid within.

Dangling it between two fingers, he smiled down at Lance, “I’m guessing you’ll want one of these.”

Lance snatched the rejuvenation potion out of Hunk’s fingers with a smile, popping the cork and grimacing slightly as he downed the liquid. It bubbled in his throat, stealing his breath for a moment as the taste of artificial grape coated his tongue like wax. But a moment later, magic was singing in his fingertips, almost sparking when they pushed through his hair. Even the room appeared lighter, magic refracting off surfaces and settling into the cracks of the wood floor, dormant and not easily manipulated.

“Thanks buddy,” Lance jumped to his feet, elbowing Hunk and sprinting to the shower. “Give your girlfriend my best.” He sprinted to the shower laughing at Hunk’s groan of denial.

“For the last time, Shay isn’t my girlfriend, Lance!”

  


* * *

  


Lance trudged through the front door to Hunk’s shop, dark bags tugging on his bottom lashes, stark against the unnatural pallor of his complexion. His hair was greasy, not the casual, wind-tousled styling he normally effortlessly achieved. The cloak was heavy on his figure, silver clip pressed deep into his throat and hands balled into the hems of the bell sleeves.

The bell sounded as he pushed through the door, immediately surrounded by a calming aura and the scent of lavender pots that lined the store windows.

“Coming!” a voice called from the back shelves.

Lance leaned against the counter, picking dirt out from underneath his nails as he waited for Shay to round the corner. Her expression quickly shifted from surprised to happy to worried in a flurry of emotions.

“Lance,” she walked to his side, wiping her hands on a green apron tied at her waist, “is everything alright? You do not look well.” Tilting her head to the side as if to examine him, her large hoop earrings dipped against her shoulder and glinted in the afternoon sun that shown through the large storefront windows.

Lance winked dramatically, smirking and attempting to brush off his exhaustion that had settled so bone deep that his marrow had transmuted into cement. “Just peachy. Seeing your face is more poignant than an rejuvenation potion.” She blushed slightly, shaking her head with a large smile on her face. “But, I’m actually here for Hunk. Is he in back?”

“He is out on a delivery to the Holts, I believe.” She thumbed through a large book with stained edges and sloppy handwriting scrawled in neat lines. “He always insists on making those deliveries himself.”

“Think I’ll be able to catch him if I head out now?”

Shay furrowed her brows, looking to the small timepiece on her inner wrist, “It is quite possible, if -”

But Lance didn’t hear the rest, bolting through the door with a shouted “thank you” as he summoned his broom from its resting position outside the store. His broom settled familiarly between his legs as he swerved between people on the sidewalk on the way to the Holts house, a large imposing building just on the outskirts of the city, riding the line of suburban and urban.

Hunk’s car was sitting outfront, canary yellow and inconspicuous.

Lance pulled up to the doorstep, barely jumping off his broom enough to knock. Bouncing between the balls of his feet, he waited impatiently for someone to open it.

Matthew Holt, with a singular scar running the length of his cheek, standing in pajamas and scratching his stomach with rumpled hair and a yawn, opened the door. Without another word, he stood to the side, holding the door open and allowing Lance in.

“Hi Matt,” Lance rushed through the door, setting his broom next to the coat rack. “Pidge! Hunk!” he called, kicking off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen where Hunk and Pidge were standing around the granite island, looking up from an assortment of potions and strange machines.

Hunk furrowed his brow, casting a worried glance in Pidge’s direction. “Hey, buddy. What’s -”

“I think I’m going insane,” Lance declared, running a hand down his face.

“And this is new because?” Pidge inquired with a smirk and snort of a laughter, fingers quickly playing with a soldering iron and one of the little devices.

Lance’s fingers twitched at his sides, eyes aching from lack of sleep and exhaustion, but his body vibrated with anxious energy like he had attempted to stay up with an endless supply of rejuvenation potions.

“Because it’s been another month, and I can’t even catch a trail of this witch. They’re everywhere!” Lance ran frantic fingers through his hair. “There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t gotten a letter about something else they’ve done.”

Flopping in a seat, Lance finally exhaled some of his anxious energy.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hunk stated, casually pushing the rejuvenation potions out of Lance’s reach.

“And you want us to do something about it?” Pidge asked, eyes glinting with perceptive energy, knowing how Lance operated by now after years of friendship.

Threading his fingers behind his head, Lance leaned back in the chair, smiling sheepishly. “I thought you would enjoy this project too.” Hunk sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat and Pidge raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking you could make some ‘Witch finder device’ that predicts where they’re going to be.”

And Lance could see that he had caught their interest, the curious tilt to their heads and the distant expression to Pidge’s features as if she was already trying to work through the solution to this problem.

“What’s in it for us?” Pidge asked, cutting Hunk’s rebuttal with a swift glance.

“How about plants from Olkarion?” Lance looked at Hunk, watching the excitement transform his face, smile twisting into something uninhibited. “And some Marmora tech?” And with that Pidge snatched Lance’s hand for a rough handshake.

With the first breath of relief, Lance watched Pidge place her hands on the table and lean forward, glasses sliding down her nose as her and Hunk brainstormed.

  


* * *

  


“So,” Hunk cleared his throat, standing tall and obviously proud of the system running on Pidge’s computer before them, “I think we’ve made a pretty sweet algorithm for locating the witch’s next targets.”

“Within a statistically acceptable margin of error,” Pidge adds in. “And it’s color-coded, because what are we?”

“Animals?” Hunk and Pidge said at the same time, laughing and smiling and very obviously proud of their program.

Lance leaned forward, breath almost fogging the computer screen, as if that would help him understand that jargon that was flying across the screen as the program was computing reasonable targets using Lance’s newest information on her whereabouts. With loud beeping, the printer spat out a page, detailing targets with times and radiuses and expected activity. “This - wow, this is seriously genius.”

“Yeah, well,” Hunk shrugged, trying to look casual behind his smile and blushing cheeks, “we try.”

“Now just to test how accurate it is,” Pidge smiled wide, tinted with mischievousness as she looked at the paper over Lance’s shoulder. “The next prediction is in an hour,” she pointed at the paper, drawing Lance’s attention. Elbowing him, she smirked, “Go get them, tiger.”

Hunk pushed several rejuvenation potions into Lance’s hands with a supportive smile, “Just in case you get overzealous.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Pidge cut off any argument with the raise of a single eyebrow. Lance shoved the bottles into the small bag tied at his hip, glass clinking in the soft leather.

He cracked his fingers, flicking his wrist and summoning his wand, light and familiar in his fingers. “Time to catch a witch.” Summoning a portal, he drew his broom into his fingers and rode through with a little salute, a smirk, and a lot of hope.


	2. The Flame that Burns Twice as Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the beautiful art work for this fic: [HERE!!!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bh-u9elnESh/) It is seriously sooooo gorgeous!! (´♡‿♡`)

Fire raced through his fingertips, threatening to singe and burn and consume if he continued to push himself. But his breaths tore through his lungs, scarring and rough. Shooting off another burst of fire that charred his fingernails, he slid down the rest of the hallway, turning the corner and attempting to catch his breath under the pulsing purple lights.

Keith hadn’t anticipated this sort of response, almost like they’d expected him. Planned for his invasion. As if his minor break-ins to other companies wasn’t enough to distract them from his ultimate goal.

The metallic sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Closer and closer to him. His breath caught, hot in his chest and pulsing with heat against his ribs. The small flash drive was a supernova against his slick skin, pressed deep into his pocket and weighing him down.

Jumping out from the small alcove, he shot off streams of fire from his palms, forearms aching with the force of channeling magic. With a bitten-off scream, he watched the sentries, crafted of steel and manipulation magic, fall to the ground in gleaming puddles of metal and the screech of lightning across transistors.

Keith sprinted past their dibilitated bodies and through the exit they had once blocked.

The sunlight was blinding against his eyes as he darted down the main thoroughfare, smelling of sweat and ash. Curious eyes of the townspeople were drawn to him, but with the snap of his fingers a tendril of flame caught the canopy above an abandoned fruit stall, drawing all attention.

Darting into the forest, he slumped against a tree, lungs aching and legs refusing to carrying him further. He slumped to the ground, rubbing charred fingers down the length of his forearms, attempting to loosen up the exhaustion that tensed and knotted his muscles. Sweat dampened his black shirt and continued to trail down his back, caressing the rise and fall of his muscles.

Closing his eyes, he fought a small smirk of victory, almost not sensing the disruption in the magic of this world.

“Well, you’re not what I was expecting,” a voice called out, too close for comfort.

Keith jumped to his feet, baring his palms as fire sparked to life on his skin and dripped to the grass like kerosene. Tanned and long-limbed, a witch in an elegant navy cloak, smirking with eyes of blue flames, perched carefully atop an elegantly carved broom. He looked so casual standing before a closing portal of blue with lingering magic radiating behind him. A heart shaped face with a sharp chin and pointed nose, eyes tired and lined with long, sooty lashes, and a smile that declared victory.

His fingers twitched, tired and threatening to extinguish the sizzling flames on his palms or let them die with a burst. “Who are you and what the hell do you want with me?” Keith ground out, watching the witch with the eyes of a predator, focusing on the casual grip of the other witch’s hands around the broom handle.

And the witch seems shocked for a moment, lips parting and eyes widening. But he cleared his throat, sitting up straight and meeting Keith’s gaze with determination and confidence. “The name’s Lance, Blue Paladin and well-known interdimensional witch that provides aid to all. And you’re a witch that’s been terrorizing the Coalition for months.”

Keith lowered his hands slightly, fire sizzling at his palms at a lower temperature, yellowing the flames like aging paper.

“I wouldn’t use the word terrorizing,” he grumbled.

“You - what? Wouldn’t use?” Lance stuttered, digging a hands into the left sleeve of his robe. Keith jumped back, attuned to the many things this witch - proclaimed protector of peace - could produce from the sleeves of his enchanted robe. The fire at his palms flared with blue sparks and a heated sizzle.

Lance threw glossy envelopes on the ground, too many spilling from his hands to hold. They charred in the heat from Keith’s palms, wax melting and resealing some of the envelopes or sticking them together as they settled into the soft earth of the forest.

“These,” he shook his handful of letters, sending another group scattering to the floor, “are all complaints about _you_!” With the flick of his wrist, Lance levitated the letters around him like a strange fog that fluctuated with the breeze of magic in the air. Popping the seal open on one of the letters, he read aloud, “Dear Blue Paladin, I would like to report that the witch is on the loose again. They caused over a hundred thousand GAC of damage within two hours. I have been assured by my own people that their trail is long gone, but we would greatly appreciate your assistance with bringing them to justice.”

Keith’s heart tensed at the information contained in the letter, especially at the thought that he couldn’t name which time that letter might be referring to.

Tossing that letter into the waves surrounding him, Lance grabbed another letter. “Lance, that damned witch burnt down my uncle’s store and ruined his birthday. If you could give him my regards,” and he threw that letter back into the fold without attempting to place it in the embossed envelope. Plucking another out, he cleared his throat, “Dear Blue Paladin, due to the activities of a certain well known witch several have been injured in their most recent endeavour -”

With a growl, fire sparked from Keith’s hands in a spiral of rage that tore through his muscles with rippling force. The glossy paper was kindling in his flames, catching along the edges and rendering them to ashes that dusted the forest floor in seconds.

“That’s enough,” Keith huffed, arms shaking at his sides and fingers refusing to clench into fists.

The witch’s jaw had dropped open slightly, fingers holding snowflake-like ashes that were stark against his tanned skin.

“Well, that was just unnecessary,” Lance mumbled, swinging one leg to the other side of his broom so he could sit with his legs crossed at the ankles, leaning backward and smirking gently. “So, what’s your name? Care to tell me why you’ve been burning a trail across the Coalition?”

Keith clenched his teeth, feeling the weight of the flash drive in his pocket as he took a stuttering step backward. He was too weak to use any more magic, fingers singed like thunder across his nerves.

The way the other witch was watching him with the ashes of letters at his feet, along with the fact that the sentries seemed to know of his arrival sparked something in Keith’s mind.

“How did you know where I was if I’ve been so hard to track down before?”

Lance smile faltered at that question, unexpected and whispered in the soft wind of the forest. “A witch never reveals his secrets,” he joked, leaning forward and wagging a finger at Keith.

Grabbing that wrist, Keith pulled him from the broom and to the soft earth of the forest. Lance flinched like Keith’s palm was too hot, charring and burning as if Keith’s bare skin wasn’t like lightning against his nerves and gritted teeth.

“How did you find me? Who else knows where I am? Did you alert the Galra of my position?” Keith growled, feeling Lance almost shaking in his aggressive grip.

“I found you with a program my friends created to predict where your next target would be,” Lance mumbled, voice nothing like the proud and defiant witch who had sat upon his broom and look down on Keith. “And no, I didn’t alert the Galra to your position. I don’t even have connections to the Galra.”

Keith dropped the witch’s wrist, seeing the remnants of his heated touch against Lance’s reddened skin, quickly hidden beneath the sleeve of his coak. He took a quick step backward, knees weakening and vision blurring at the edges.

Lance pinned Keith with a gaze of blue fire, like the trailing lights of a comet. “So what are you searching for? Because I would rather not get anymore letters,” he joked, with a half-hearted laugh following his words.

“Well, aren’t you some interdimensional, ‘Dear Abby’ witch or something? Don’t you like the business?” Keith snorted, crossing his arms and concealing the pained tremble of his fingers in the fold of his arms. He hoped that Lance’s pride would allow them to divert the topic of the conversation onto Lance rather than himself.

“Actually,” Lance puffed up his chest, looking prouder with sparkling eyes and a devilish smile. He was about to continue, when another letter ripped through the magic of Keith’s world, rippling the air like an earthquake.

Snapping the wax seal, Lance quickly scanned the letter. Keith backed up slowly, attempting to leave while the other witch was focused, distracted.

“Holy crow,” he whispered, tucking the letter into the sleeve of his cloak and summoning his wand with the flick of his wrist. A portal with swirling blue markings appeared at the twirl of Lance’s wand, delicately carved with a wave for a handle.

Keith turned to run, only for the collar of his shirt to be snagged. “Wait,” Lance shouted, drawing him closer with the lasso of magic that wound around Keith’s shirt, plucking him off the ground and placing him on the back of the broom. It swayed dramatically at Keith’s sudden weight, wood biting into his thighs. “I can’t let you go before we have the time to properly talk!”

“Let me go, ass-” Keith’s growl was swallowed by a sudden yelp as Lance raced forward through the fading portal.

Magic surrounded and engulfed him like tar, sticking to his skin and peeling off his flesh, bearing him down to muscle and sinew and spinning organs. Each breath was like water, bubbling in his lungs and stinging with briny force. His screams were echoed whimpers as his fingers dug into the back of Lance’s cloak, trembling fingers aching with the force.

And like a slap, the sensation stopped, tearing from his body like dried wax.

He pushed off Lance, collapsing to the ground and promptly vomiting, back curling and stomach clenching.

“Sorry, I forget Traveling can be hard on newbies.” Lance’s voice was a distant call through the fog that was slowly receding from Keith’s mind. He dug trembling fingers into the soft earth for an anchor through the vertigo that tilted his mind on an axis, muscles aching and spasming with effort.

A tremor sounded through the ground, making Keith flex his hands and sway even further of kilter.

“Oh, quiznack,” Lance whispered, drawing Keith’s gaze from the splattering he’d made on the grass to a monster that parted slender, dust-grey trees with the vicious swipe of its front paws. With a soft, pale underbelly and protective blue armor that lined its back, it narrowed black eyes on them. Pausing, it twitched the whiskers that jutted out in thick tufts from its small snout, as if smelling them. “Always a Swathian Meerakeet. Always,” the witch grumbled, drawing his wand and standing a full height.

Confident in his stance, Lance muttered a short incantation, flicking his wand in a complex pattern to collect excess magic in the air to power the spell.

Before he could finish chanting, the monster screeched, reverberating sound waves echoed from its mouth, tearing up grass and uprooting trees. Lance merely stepped to the side, left hand flicking to summon his broom out of the affected radius. The creature snapped its eyes on the blue witch the moment the spell took effect.

Ribbons of blue magic drew from around Lance, reaching like protective tendrils from the grass, the latent magic that surged through the ley lines beneath them. The next step the monster took, the blue energy burst through the soft soil and coiled around its leg, sending it careening to the ground with a startled cry.

Smirking, Lance twirled the wand and the ribbons skittered over the entire torso of the creature, binding its feet and preventing the tremors from its struggle.

The witch’s fire blue eyes darted back to check on Keith, worry soon replaced with confidence as he turned his gaze back to the Swathian Meerakeet.

Another incantation, shorter with crisper syllables and clearly in another language, was almost lost under the shrieking cries of the beast. The monster opened its jaws, sharpened teeth glinting in the blue light of the binding magic. With the flick of his wrist, Lance painted a large circle around the creature, swirls printed in a language Keith had never seen.

The magic pulsed and the center of the circle transformed into warped blue space, slowly dragging the Swathian Meerakeet through with the gentle point of Lance’s wand.

With a strangled cry, it disappeared through the portal. Like a suction of air, it closed around the creature, making it vanish from this reality and leaving only the scent of char and grime saturating the air.

Lance slowly lowered his wand, snapping his fingers and sending it back to whatever liminal space he’d summoned it from. Turning on the ball of his foot, he faced Keith with a blinding smile, perspiration dampening his brow.

“Now, where were we?” the blue-eyed witch asked, walking forward and flopping on the ground next to Keith. He tucked one knee to his chest, resting his cheek and watching Keith’s face like he was an anomaly.

“I’m pretty sure,” Keith spat, the taste of bile on his tongue, heavy and foreign, “we were in my dimension.”

Lance cracked a smile, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, knocking his hat astray. It fluttered, wide brimmed, to the soft earth of the forest around them. “Yeah, sorry about that. The job calls, you know?”

“Where did you send it?” Keith asked, nodding his head in the direction of scorched grass and small tendrils of magic that still lingered in the upturned earth.

The blue-eyed witch huffed a sigh, his chest rising so that Keith could see the way sweat had dampened the white fabric of his shirt and how it stuck to his tanned skin. “Swathian Meerakeet live deep in the Fertronium mountains, burrowing caves. Normally that’s where they stay too. But it seems that the miners disturbed their nesting grounds, and a mom went on a rampage. So I just sent her home.” His smile was sweet, head tipped back and eyes closed as the last dredges of sunlight pierced through the leaves and decorated him in lacey shadows.

Keith just waited for him to continue, muscles still spasming and stomach unsettled by the trip through the portal.

“But back to our earlier conversation,” Lance began, turning his gaze to Keith, “You’ve been terrorizing the citizens of the Coalition Realm for the last three or so months. And since I’m the interdimensional witch that provides aid to all in need, I’m kind of here to stop your,” and he flicked his wrist as if attempting to think of the word, “shenanigans.” But he frowned at the word he had settled on.

Raising a single eyebrow, Keith mumbled a response, “Shenanigans.” He felt anger sizzle in his veins. This witch, who didn’t even know his name, was attempting to undermine everything he’d been doing and struggling to accomplish, as if he was merely an arsonist who lit fires for fun.

He opened his mouth to say more, to release the building rage, but Lance’s gaze shot to the edge of trees that lined where the Meerakeet had fallen.

At the sound of approaching people, Lance jumped to his feet, swiping grass and leaves off his pants before picking up his hat and setting it at a slight angle on his head. A group of farmers burst through the line of trees, pitchforks and torches in their hands. Fear and determination colored their features as they scanned the area that was most definitely scarred by the Swathian Meerakeet’s presence.

“Where’s that Meerakeet?” some shouted over the crowd of worried murmurs. Others seemed to look at them with suspicion and distrust, weapons clasped tightly in their grasps.

“Lance!” a voice called from the back of the group. A young girl burst through the edge of the crowd, blue dress swaying around her calves as she dropped her pitchfork to the charred earth. Jumping into Lance’s embrace, the girl laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck in celebration. “I knew you could help us! Thank you, Lance.”

He softly placed her on the ground, rubbing a gentle hand on her head and messing up her hair. “You can always count on me, Mirabella.”

Her smile was large as she grabbed his hand and dragging him towards the group of farmers-turned-soldiers.

Everything about the way Lance had taken down the Swathian Meerakeet was practiced, intellectual and planned with every possibility accounted for. And even through his easygoing smile, Keith could see that he was a terrifyingly powerful witch, able to cross dimensions. Able with all of this power to terrorize and colonize and conquer, and yet he chose to help.

Mirabella stood at his side, smiling wide and proud at the actions the Blue Paladin had performed, bragging about how amazing Lance was. A small blush decorated his cheeks, almost hidden beneath the golden tan of his skin and the shadows of his hat. Keith watched the way he pushed payment back into an old woman’s hands, shaking his head and blushing slightly.

And with all this power, he was even denying payment.

What a strange witch.

But Keith couldn’t fight his smile small or fight the magicked envelopes Lance had pressed into his grasp. “In case you need help,” Lance smiled sitting back on his broom. “I am an interdimensional witch who lends aid to everyone after all.”

With finger guns, Lance shot through his next portal after delivering Keith back to the dark woods he’d spirited him away from - the second trip through the portal, thankfully, wasn’t as disorienting as the first.

Tucking the letters into his pocket, Keith trekked off into the heart of the woods, flash drive still heavy in his pocket and smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Comments and kudos seriously mean the world to me!! (I literally show them all off to my friends and family because I'm so excited haha)
> 
> Come scream at me on [my tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)! I love to chat!!


	3. Ties that Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!! Sorry for the delay in posting this next chapter! I hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Please check out the beautiful art work for this fic: [HERE!!!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bh-u9elnESh/) It is seriously sooooo gorgeous!! (´♡‿♡`)

Lance celebrated his victory against the rogue witch and the Swathian Meerakeet with a glass of Hunk’s enchanted wine, feet kicked up on his couch. Swirling the viscous liquid in the glass, the scent of sunlight, fermented sugars, and diluted pears filled the room. Tension leaked from his shoulders with every sip of wine.

Hunk and Pidge had high fived over their invention, setting it up in Lance and Hunk’s living room.

“I’m not going to need it anymore,” Lance commented as Hunk plugged the small computer into the wall atop their printer. “The witch and I came to an agreement about him terrorizing the Coalition.”

Pidge only snorted a laugh in response. “You have too much faith in people, Lance.” Her gaze held a little pity and worry as she turned back to the machine while Hunk poured her a glass.

  


* * *

  


Turned out, Pidge was right to be suspicious.

Lance stepped out of the shower to a letter floating in the air, barely disrupting the magic of his dimension. He waited to dry off, walking into the living room dressed in his robe while scanning the letter. Almost spitting out the coffee Hunk had made him, he reread the passage to the sound of the printer activating and spitting out a sheet of the witch’s locations.

Quickly donning clothes and forgoing his classic widebrimmed hat, Lance snapped his broom into his hand and whipped open a portal.

“Hey!” Lance yelled at the figure walking briskly down the darkened alleyway. “I thought we’d come to an understanding.”

The witch turned on the ball of his foot, mischief commandeering his lips into a smirk. His inky black hair was tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck, but his bangs danced into violet eyes. Crossing his arms, the witch only raised a single eyebrow and muscles covered under the highneck of his shirt jumped.

“What understanding was that, Lance?”

Lance floundered for a response, “That you would stop terrorizing these people.” He swung a hand back to the main thoroughfare that was bustling with panicked people, the scent of smoke thick in the air.

The witch tapped his foot as if thinking. “What I remember is that you told me to stop ‘terrorizing,’” and the way that the witch spoke that word - mocking, mimicking and demeaning - made Lance clench his teeth, “these people. But I don’t remember agreeing.” The smug grin on his face only deepened as he looked over Lance’s aghast face.

“You just burned down at storefront!” Lance shrieked, pointing towards the mainstreet where there were several people running towards the commotion. The taste of ash settled on Lance’s tongue, gritty and guilt ridden. “How do you not call that terrorizing?!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure _you_ called them shenanigans, so?” With a huff of laughter, the witch turned on the ball of his foot and starting jogging down the alleyway, sweat painting a darkened stripe down the back of his shirt.

Cursing under his breath, Lance drove his broom forward, stopping on a needle fine turn in front of the witch. Surprise widened those violet eyes, before fire was sparking at the bristles of Lance’s broom, smoking and crackling the fine fibers. He jumped off with a small squeak, summoning what little water the dry air held as the witch shot past him, almost at the end of the alley.

“Oh no you don’t,” Lance growled, directing an open portal to form at the end of the alleyway, just as the witch stepped onto the sidewalk. The text spun quickly with the flick of Lance’s wrist, bold white text that encapsulated the witch with tendrils of blue magic.

Fire surged from his fingertips as he fought against the gelatinous hold of the wormhole, sending blasts of energy at the text to break the summoning and free himself. But the portal only absorbed the energy, strengthening and fortifying the text as ribbons of magic drew him forcely forward.

With a look of terror, he turned back to Lance, eyes wide and hands reaching, fire dripping from his fingertips like melted glass. “Wait! Don---” but his voice was cut off by the suction of the portal, darkened spirals pulling him the rest of the way in.

With a sigh, Lance dusted off his broom, char falling to the ground in snowy tufts. After glancing around the corner at the storefront and ensuring the fire was put out, he stepped through the portal, following the witch where he’d sent him.

The witch was standing on the table in his kitchen, palms blazing at his sides as Hunk held a frying pan close to his chest, as if in defense. He was pressed up against the stove, shoulders curled and voice trembling.

“Who are -”

“Where’s the Blue Paladin?” the witch growled, fire blazing brighter, fingers tinting blue with heat.

Casually leaning against the arched threshold ot the kitchen, Lance picked some ash out from underneath his nails. “Miss me already?” He glanced up, gaze hidden under his sooty lashes, just in time to see the witch whip around, face flushed with heat and eyes narrowed.

Jumping off the table, the witch was suddenly pressing a heated palm against Lance’s throat, fire barely contained beneath his skin once again. Lance gritted his teeth against the pain, one hand fluttering to the one pinning him while the other twirled his wand in a desperate attempt to fling the witch off him. But another burning hand slammed that hand against the wall, wand clattering to the ground in a flinch of pain.

“Send me home,” the witch growled, fire sparking in his irises and a touch of fear constricting his voice. “You have no idea what you’ve done!”

“Get off,” Lance coughed, nails digging into the flesh of the witch’s hand, “and we can talk.”

The witch stepped back abruptly, hands hanging by his sides and palms steaming. Lance’s eyes quickly darted to Hunk standing in the kitchen with the cast iron frying pan still clutched to his chest, but his eyes held a determination. If he gave the word, Hunk could dose the rogue witch with a sleeping tonic or something more lethal he’d crafted for an occasion such as this. But Lance shook his head, gaze darting back to the witch standing in the middle of his living room.

With tense shoulders and hands clenching at his sides, he looked nothing like the witch from the alleyway, all confidence and defiant anger.

“Send me back,” he growled, all spitfire and char.

Lance stepped forward to finally speak about everything, because maybe a firmer lecture would stop his terrorizing. But a letter bobbed by his head, pulsing with rapid waves of magic, envelope practically vibrating through the air beside him.

Distracted, Lance plucked it from the air and quickly broke the still warm seal.

> _Robeast in main square,_
> 
> _Allura_

A robeast? Here?

His gaze darted to the boy standing before him, lips parted with a million questions roaring in his mind.

Stiffening, the witch stood taller, more like the confident arsonist Lance had become accustomed to. “The Galra?”

And Lance could only nod as he snapped his wand into his hand, grabbed his broom, and darted from the front door. A heated hand on his wrist stopped him. The witch stood directly behind him, features tense and heat almost searing Lance’s flesh.

“Take me with you,” the witch whispered.

Lance wanted to protest, to claim that this was a job for the professionals, but there had never been a robeast in such a populated area before - and especially not within the Altea Realm. The Galra normally saved their attacks for territories in their own dimension or neighboring ones, not a place heavily defended by witches, not a place where there was nothing to gain.

“Hold on,” Lance directed, jumping onto his broom, and without another word, the witch jumped on the back, hands wrapping tightly around Lance’s stomach. Speeding down the street, low and riding the wind currents of the city streets, Lance fought against the currents to get to the battlefield as quickly as possible. The witch’s fingers dug into his abdomen, only serving to enhance his own anxiety.

With a quick turn around a corner, the rubber sole of his shoe skidded along the ground for a counterbalance, making the witch squeeze him tighter. But they couldn’t afford to go any slower.

They rounded the final block, entering the main square of their city surrounded by skyscrapers and the elegant city hall, old fashioned and in constant need of maintenance. A clock tower stood in the middle of the building, visible from the main thoroughfares of the city.

The clock weakly chimed as the tower crumbled around the leg of a robeast, plunging into the belly of city hall. The mechanical monster steadied itself, fixing Allura with glowing red eyes that seemed to take a minute and analyze her as she floated before it on an elegant broom.

Flicking his wrist, Lance forced the fire hydrants around the square to open, spraying the air with gallons of water that he directed to the robotic joints of the robeast’s legs. As the water seeped into the mechanics, he froze it, expanding and threatening to tear the limbs to pieces.

“Let me down,” the witch growled behind him.

“Too dangerous. I can’t just -” But before Lance could finish, the witch was pitching to the side and dropping through the air like an asteroid to the earth.

Lance shrieked, the immediate threat of the robeast forgotten as he drove towards the falling witch, desperate to save him. But fire sparked from the boy’s hands, bursting in billows of heated flames that stalled his momentum seconds from the ground and sent waves of energy through the air. He landed harshly, rolling towards city hall that crumbled around the robeasts movements, joints now moving fluidly as the water melted.

Cursing under his breath, Lance steadied himself on his broom, directing his full attention to the water and freezing the robeast’s feet in large icebergs. The robot ground it’s joints, fighting against the structure of the ice and making Lance grit his teeth from the strain to hold him still.

Allura coasted gently by his side, her features pinched and worried. “Lance,” and the way she said his name only carried disapproval, “after the battle, we will have a talk about the witch you dragged along. But first, let us show the Galra they can’t just invade our land!” Her eyes sparkled with determination.

“Are the others coming?” Lance asked, watching the way Allura’s energy darted along the battlefield, tearing the magic from the imbued in the metal of the robeast and collecting into her pink glowing wand.

Her features darkened, “No. It’s just us -”

But the rest of her statement was cut off by the sound of snapping metal, shrieking with force. Lance’s gaze darted to the robeast’s legs, the witch only visible by the spark of his hands as he melted the mechanics and sent the robeast to one knee.

The robeast’s head dipped and bellowed a whine of grinding gears and sparking transistors from deep within its mechanical chest.

Standing below the robeast, the witch’s fire only seemed to grow as it engulfed the bent head in a great blaze. The witch stood with palms extended and fire blasting in a torrent of colors, white dancing in his palms with the blues of heat and the yellows of almost extinguished flame. Like globs of mercury, the metal dropped to the sidewalk around the witch in hissing piles of steam and smoking luxite.

The robeast groaned, one hand falling to the ground in an earthquake of force. The sidewalk splintered easily under its stout fingers.

Lance quickly sent rivers of water to bind the hand to the ground.

“Let’s finish this,” Allura declared, eyes dancing with determination and confidence as she flicked her wrist, summoning a type of portal he’d only seen her use once before. Unfamiliar text, bold and blinding white, swirled around the robeast’s head like a nimbus, glowing and radiant. Wisps of pink magic spiraled out from the portal as inky energy dripped like molasses onto the metal, sizzling with the scorching heat.

Watching her closely, Lance could see the exact moment the strain of the portal became too much, pinching her features and gritting her teeth as sweat dampened her brow.

Determined to help Allura in anyway possible, he let his waters swarm the body, pinning more of the metal beast to the ground and silencing its struggle.

Allura let a huff of breath and the portal began to close, fighting to tighten the summoning text and smother the rift between dimensions. With ferocious fury, the energy fought against its restraint, dripping and pouring over the metal with hunger and desperation.

“Allura,” he whispered, magic waning as the beast struggled against his hold and surged against the poisonous quintessence Allura allowed to drip through the portal, consuming everything in its path. Any sprinkling of the dangerous and lethal energy that dared to rain on the witch below were burnt to ashes.

But the fire began to stutter, flames purest yellow and red like leaves in autumn. No longer did currents of blue and white streak through the tendrils.

In a crackle of magic that sent staggering ripples through the air, the portal snapped closed with all the oozing quintessence with it. The waves of energy sent Lance dropping twenty feet on his broom, thighs squeezing tight to the wooden handle as he steadied himself. Allura huffed at his side, hands gripping her broom in desperation as wisps of her hair stuck to the perspiration on her forehead.

“Allura -”

“I’m alright,” she breathed, voice ragged and shirt darkened with sweat. “Opening the rift just drains me.”

Lance merely nodded, drifting closer to her side ready to catch her if she fell. Fishing through his bag, he pulled out several of the rejuvenation potions Hunk had given him a week or so ago, bubbling purple liquid that almost shook within its glass container. He pushed one into her hand, receiving a gracious smile in return.

A frustrated scream drew his attention to the ground, where the witch was still fighting off the metallic body of the robeast that mindlessly struggled against Lance’s holds. Even without its head, heart, and a majority of its quintessence, it still fought on.

“The rift didn’t consume it?” Allura whispered, her voice tinged with surprise and horror almost lost under the screech of metal. Her hands trembled around the empty vial of the rejuvenation potion, either from excess magic or the same feeling that Lance felt crawl down his spine and raise goosebumps on his flesh.

“Quiznaking Galra,” Lance growled, watching the way the headless beast thrashed against its bonds.

Darting down into the fray, Lance cursed under his breath and swiped the witch out of the way the second a hand broke free and slammed into the pavement.

The witch was hot against his skin, arm pressed tightly in his abdomen, muscles straining to hold him aloft. “Watch it,” Lance breathed, exhaustion threatening to settle in his bones, broom soaring lower and slower than before.

“I can handle myself,” the witch growled, pulling Lance’s hand off him and hurtling back to the earth like a comet - fiery and lethal. Using his fire, he propelled himself atop the back of the robeast, igniting streams of flame from the palms of his hands directly into metal.

Chugging one of the rejuvenation potions from his bag, Lance ignored the waxy grape taste and the biting carbonation that bubbled in his throat. He flicked his wrist, enjoying the way magic surged through his veins again, like rivers of ice that soothed the ache of his sore muscles.

Changing tactics, Lance opted for crafting the spraying water into daggers, stabbing the robeast through the middle of its hands and forearms, until it was pinned to the ground at every joint by icy pillars.

Allura summoned a bolt of lightning, conjuring it in the sky with the whip of her wand. She nodded to Lance, and without question, Lance dove towards the witch, body curled tight to his broom, cape billowing in the harsh drag of the wind. The witch’s flames were mere sputters of indignation, sparking from his fingers and dripping to the back of the robeast, sizzling out before they could reach metal. Sweat soaked his brow and darkened the inky fabric of his shirt while his face was contorted with anger and a kind of rage Lance had rarely seen - the blinding sort that hungers and feasts on the flesh of vengeance and the blood of revenge.

He didn’t even seem to sense Lance’s presence as he settled in a gust of air. Reaching out a tentative hand, he brushed his fingers over the witch’s sorching flesh, “Hey.”

But he didn’t respond, only shaking off Lance’s touch and summoning the last sparks of fire with a scream and tensed, trembling muscles.

“We have to go,” Lance begged, prepared to just lift the boy and whisk him away like he had before, but he was worried he wouldn’t be able to hold the floundering, defiant witch, putting him only at the mercy of Allura’s lightning.

The witch’s shoulders tensed, flames and scream fading with a stuttering cough. “I can’t. Have to finish this.” And like a whisper on the wild wind, picked up by the gathering clouds and tendrils of pink magic, Lance thought he heard, “It’s my fault.”

“The robeast won’t be the only thing that’s finished if you stay here when Allura releases that magic.” He glanced again to the sky, concerned with the concentration of dark storm clouds gathered immediately over them, an ominous sign of the coming bolt of lightning. The energy was free and willful, bouncing through the air with boundless power, making it almost impossible to control - meaning that if they were standing here when Allura finished summoning, they were toast.

Without asking for permission or waiting any longer, Lance wrapped both arms around the heavily breathing torso of the witch, yanking him from the ground and attempting to fly his broom with only his knees.

They burst into the air in a gust of wind that smelled of smoke and char. The witch jostled against him, muscles straining and feet flailing - not as a means to get away, but in sheer panic. They were both aware that he was too exhausted to catch himself with his flames, only relying on Lance’s grip to keep him from tumbling to the earth like a flightless bird.

Hot hands gripped Lance’s, trembling with sore muscles and fear. “Let me go,” the witch snapped, voice almost lost to the wind currents Allura pulled in order to draw the clouds in tighter, energy crackling in the air.

“You really don’t want me to do that,” Lance breathed against his ear, muscles straining against the flailing stiffness of the witch’s body and the force of the breeze threatening to pull them in to the line of fire or sending them careening to the ground.

“Put me down,” the boy whispered, but their gazes were drawn to the heavens as a soft buzzing sounded in the air, drowning out any other words that he may have uttered. Like a shiver coursing over his body, the fine hairs on Lance’s arms stood on end under his cloak.

Like a swipe across a canvas, pink lightning pierced through the air around them, embedding deep in the back of the robeast. Sparking as it contacted the metal in a flash of explosions and tendrils of electricity danced in the surrounding air. The thunderous clap that sounded through the sky followed seconds after, deafening Lance and making his grip tighten on the witch in his arms.

The witch’s hands sparked, flame almost reignited by the energy and magic that coursed through the air.

The robeast beneath them let out a cry, metallic like crunching cars or crumbling bridges, as its limbs lost all tension, falling to the ground with a shattering, limp force.

“Put me down,” the witch whispered, gripping Lance’s hands with tight fingers of electrified fire.

Rolling his eyes, Lance drifted towards an undisrupted part of the sidewalk, Allura following shortly after him. She floated on her broom, both legs dangled over one side with a carefree area about her, despite the sweat on her brow and the exhaustion that settled on her shoulders. Casually, she pushed the lost tendrils of her hair back into her bun, regaining the beautiful regality she always wore.

“Thank you for your help,” she spoke as the witch’s feet landed on the sidewalk, and she seemed to pause as if looking for a name to address him.

Clearing his throat, he dusted off his shirt, attempting to readjust the fabric under Allura’s smiling gaze. “Keith,” he finished her unanswered question, and Allura nodded in response.

“Thank you, Keith.”

“No problem,” the witch grumbled, digging his sparking hands deep into his pockets. “Can you send me home now?”

Allura’s eyes darted to Lance, curiosity narrowing her gaze. Lance rolled up the sleeves of his coat as he floated inches above the ground on his singed broom. “Well, Keith and I were supposed to have a talk about his actions in the Coalition Realm,” and the way Keith’s name left his lips was strange, as if his lips had a hard time pinning the name, capturing the enigmatic witch with a single word.

“Oh,” Allura breathed, realization tensing her posture. “If that is the case, then Lance can bring you back to his place. I will meet with you shortly after -”

“Allura!” a strict voice boomed across the main square, and she flinched at the sound.

A burst of bright orange hair and a frown poised under a styled mustache marched down the broken sidewalk, arms swinging at his sides and blue suit ruffled with debris. Allura didn’t need to turn her head to see her Uncle, secretary to the Mayor, marching towards her with an angry look on her face.

“Hi Coran,” Lance waved, chuckling under his breath at the flush that rose high on Allura’s cheeks.

Coran merely nodded in his direction before he crossed his arms and waited for Allura to slowly pivot on her broom. “Good afternoon, Allura.”

Lance stepped off his broom, grabbing Keith by the shoulder and directing him down the sidewalk, away from the battlefield and Coran’s rising volume. “Come on,” Lance shuttered slightly, “I don’t need to be there for another lecture.”

Keith stepped out of his grasp, crossing his arms and glaring at Lance from the corner of his eye. But there was an exhaustion to his features and the slope of his shoulders, an exhaustion that Lance was all too familiar with - when your magic is gone, withered and parched in your veins, and it feels like the world is so much heavier, gravity so much more forceful without the lightness of magic in your blood.

  


* * *

  


Keith didn’t talk the entirety of the walk back to Lance’s place. (They had tried to take the subway back, but it had been shut down due to the tremors from the battle. And Lance was too tired to try to fly them all the way back, and Hunk would have most definitely yelled at him for taking two rejuvenation potions in a single day).

There was a tension in the air, sparking like fire and palpable on the tongue.

“I’m home,” Lance called as he popped the door open with his hip, keys dangling in his hands.

“Praise the ancients that you’re,” Hunk began, stepping out of the kitchen, hands worrying his apron, but his words slowed, tentative as his gaze darted to Keith at Lance’s side, “alriiiight.”

And with the raise of Hunk’s eyebrow, Lance shrunk back a little, closing the door with the heel of his shoe. “Yeah, it was just a robeast.” Shrugging, Lance tried to play it off as something less major than it was - a robeast roaming the streets of Altea. His gaze traced Keith as he leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed and eyes wary. Before he glanced into the kitchen to see the mess splattering the table and the countertops, burnt cookies and half-boiled potions.

“Just a robeast?” Hunk’s voice squeaked a little as his hands clenched his apron tighter, “But there’s never been one in the Altean Realm before.”

“Precisely,” Allura’s voice sounded before she stepped through the portal, hair spilling from her bun and a mess at her shoulders. “I’m unsure if it was due to a disruption in the normal currents of magic. Keith,” and at the sound of her voice, the glossy exhaustion in his eyes seemed to clear, “it seems you arrived in this realm moments before the robeast.”

Lance watched a flinch flash across Keith’s features, quickly smothered by indifference.

Allura smiled warmly, attempting to comfort Keith as she asked her invasive question. “So, would you mind explaining how you received your magic.”

Running a hand through his hair, Lance slumped down on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Isn’t magic just as rare in the Coalition Realm as it is here?”

There was a stiff silence in the air, and with each passing moment, the relaxation ebbed from Lance’s posture. Was this such a difficult question?

“I’m not sure how it was for you,” he began, hoping to lighten the mood and allow for Keith to speak more freely, “but Allura was the one who activated our powers.” Lance smiled to Hunk, watching the way his hands fell from his apron, confidence coming back into his large form. “She’s kind of like a princess from another Realm.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of starlight hair behind her ear, “Oh stop it, Lance.”

Shrugging, Lance couldn’t fight his smile, “Well, our powers manifested in different ways. Supposedly people have different aptitudes for channeling magic, and that magic manifests in different ways. I can perform a lot of standard magic, nothing too crazy strong or anything though.” He could feel himself rambling, because the tension rolling off Keith was making him stressed. And when he was stressed, he talked and talked and talked. But every word out of his mouth seemed to only increase the irritation in Keith’s posture and grit of his teeth.

“And of course our Princess can pretty much to anything, like you saw her open the rift today, and if you don’t know, it’s practically impossible for 99.99% of magic users. And - and Hunk specializes in potions, anything from rejuvenation potions to turning your hair bright purple for 3 weeks.”

“Now, that was a mistake,” Hunk grumbled, smirk of nostalgia playing on his lips.

“And Pidge, she knows how everything electronic works just by touching it for a second. Can rebuild almost anything with her eyes closed. And she could could hack a quiznacking bread loaf if you asked her to. And then there’s - ”

“The Galra,” Keith spit, interrupting Lance’s speech with a growl. He turned his gaze to Keith, seeing the way his posture had changed. His shoulders were hunched, eyes downcast, and fingernails dug so deep into his biceps sparks were dancing along the seams of his shirt. The silence in the room tasted like ash. “They gave me these powers,” but the word ‘gave’ caught in Keith’s throat and from the glossiness in Keith’s eyes, Lance knew that ‘gave’ was a wholly inaccurate word to describe what must have happened.

And in that moment, all of Keith’s terrorizing actions the last months started to make sense - the erratic behavior, misfiring magic, and a thirst of revengeance that no simple fire could quench. In all those misdeeds, Lance could almost pity the witch before him: powerful and dangerous and on the verge of self-destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed!!
> 
> Comments and kudos seriously make my day (I show them all to my friends as I swoon over all the love you all give me <3)
> 
> Come scream at me on my [tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and kudos literally mean the world to me!!
> 
> Come scream at me on [my tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com) or give me suggestions!!
> 
> Please check out the beautiful art work for this fic: [HERE!!!!](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bh-u9elnESh/) It is seriously sooooo gorgeous!! (´♡‿♡`)


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